


Utter My Love

by sunbeamsandmoonrays



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Mutual Pining, Post battle of Winterfell, alternatively titled "How many headcanons can I fit in 1K words", post 8.03, though we only get Sansa's pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-26 21:42:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18725539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunbeamsandmoonrays/pseuds/sunbeamsandmoonrays
Summary: “I’m all right, Jon. I’m all right.” She wanted so badly to kiss him, damn whoever may have been watching. A powerful surge of want went through her when she felt his lips brush her neck. Not yet. So she settled on placing a kiss on Jon’s cheek, just above his cut. It would have to be enough for now.





	Utter My Love

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the Hozier title generator. I do not own anything related to GoT/asoiaf. (If I did, I would have these two kids together already.) Enjoy!

Ever since their conversation in her solar that first night, Jon had been avoiding her. It was extremely apparent during the war council meeting, when Jon’s gaze refused to look in her direction, even though she was standing next to him. Sansa didn’t want to leave things between them like she had before the last battle he fought, but it seemed like Jon thought elsewise as he dismissed the council while he remained staring at the battle plans.

She was halfway down the corridor when she heard hurried footsteps behind her.

“Sansa,” Jon’s voice called. She stopped abruptly and turned to face him. He jerked to a stop a few paces away from her. “Can we talk?” He glanced around the deserted corridor before settling his gaze on her. “In private?” he added.

Sansa blinked in surprise. “Of course.” She gave him a tentative smile, to which Jon only nodded solemnly in return. Without another word, Jon moved past Sansa and strode down the corridor in the direction she had initially been going. She repressed a huff of exasperation and hurried after him.

He led them to his chambers and barred the door once they were both inside. Sansa began to wring her hands in worry. What was so important to say to her that he had to ensure this amount of privacy? On the eve of battle, no less? Her sense of unease grew the longer Jon remained facing the door. It seemed that an eternity passed before she saw his shoulders rise and fall with the breath he took before he turned to face her at last. Jon’s stare was intense as he edged closer to her. Sansa found herself holding her breath as she stared back.

“I am not your brother.”

Sansa’s eyes widened. “What?” she gasped.

Jon blinked but did not break his eye contact with her. His next words were slow and measured. “My father…is not Ned Stark. My father is Rhaegar Targaryen. And my mother is Lyanna. They married in secret.”

“How do you-?”

“Sam. He found records of their marriage. And…Bran saw it.”

“Oh, Jon.” Sansa stepped forward and lifted her hand to place on his shoulder, but hesitated when she saw Jon visibly tense. She let her hand fall awkwardly to the side. “You know I don’t see you any differently.” _Liar_ , a voice inside her whispered. _You are relieved that you don’t have to pretend anymore_. Sansa ignored it. “You are still a Stark.”

“Am I?” he asked harshly. He stormed away from her and ended up facing the lit fireplace.

Sansa bristled. “Of course you are!” Sansa did not hesitate this time as she marched after him, grabbed his arm, and wrenched him around to face her. “Your _mother_ was a Stark. And _Father_ was the one who raised you. You are _still_ our family.” She watched as the tension left Jon’s body and he gave her a nod of acknowledgement. It would have to do for now. “Have you told anyone else?” she asked.

“No.” Sansa sighed quietly in relief. “But Sam thinks I should tell Daenerys.”

“Is that wise?” she couldn’t help but ask.

Jon scoffed. “Sansa…”

Sansa shook her head. She did not want to fight with Jon tonight. “Just…just be careful, all right? We’ll deal with…everything once the battle is over.”

Jon gave her a look that broke her heart then. It was a look of resignation. “But Sansa, if I don’t -”

She would not hear it. “ _You will_ ,” she declared. She grasped his face between her hands and lowered his head so she could place a kiss on his forehead, just as he had done to her when they reclaimed Winterfell. She closed her eyes as her lips touched his skin. She wished instead it was his lips that her own were pressed to. _Not yet_. She stroked his cheeks with her thumbs before she stepped out of reach. She tried to ignore how he leaned in after her. “You will,” she repeated, before she turned around and all but fled from his chambers.

***

Sansa found Jon in the courtyard, covered in blood and filth but looking relatively unharmed. She let out a sob of relief.

“Jon!” she cried as she rushed towards him. He turned just in time to catch her in an embrace.

“Sansa!” he gasped against her neck. “Oh gods!”

“Bran and Arya, are they -?”

“They’re both alive.” Jon squeezed her tighter. “Bran told me what happened in the crypts. Gods, Sansa, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m all right, Jon. I’m all right.” She wanted so badly to kiss him, damn whoever may have been watching. A powerful surge of want went through her when she felt his lips brush her neck. _Not yet_. So she settled on placing a kiss on Jon’s cheek, just above his cut. It would have to be enough for now.

***

The funeral pyres were lit. The wounded were being treated. Repairs to the castle had started. And whoever was left had begun an impromptu celebratory feast in the great hall. Sansa went to her solar instead, to grieve her loss alone.

She was still on her first glass of wine when Jon knocked on her door.

“I didn’t see you at the feast,” he greeted when she let him enter.

“I didn’t feel much like celebrating.” Not when she still felt an overwhelming guilt at not doing enough. Theon…the soldiers outside the crypt…the people in the crypt who didn’t make it…she would cry if she had any more tears left in her.

“I didn’t, either,” he said quietly, his gaze intent on her face.

Sansa gazed back at him. She was finding it harder to breathe. _Not now_.

_Why not?_

Sansa reached for him first. She grabbed him by his jerkin and brought his lips down to hers. And _oh_. So this was what a kiss should feel like. A _true kiss_. She could almost weep at all the time that was wasted between them where they weren’t doing this. She felt Jon’s responding groan all the way down to her toes, and when he moved his mouth against hers, she whimpered. She felt his hands clutch at her waist and she moved hers to thread in his hair. She needed him closer. She needed to feel all of him, and he her. She needed to breathe.

Sansa broke away with a gasp but did not completely leave his embrace. Jon leaned his forehead against hers, panting just as heavily as she.

Jon licked his lips. “That was…”

Sansa surprised herself by giggling. “It was,” she agreed. She stroked his cheek, careful to avoid his cut. His dark eyes closed and she swore she heard him hum in pleasure.

“Jon?”

“Yes?”

“Kiss me again.”

And he did.

**Author's Note:**

> Any Once Upon a Time fans in here? I have a "blink and you'll miss it" reference from there. Also, if you like my fic, please leave a review! I'd love to hear from you. You can also visit my tumblr anytime (I go by the same username).


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